


Scars

by TrueIllusion



Series: Slices of Life in Schitt's Creek [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Patrick Brewer is a Troll, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/pseuds/TrueIllusion
Summary: Patrick had to bite his lip to keep from apologizing again, because he really hadn’t intended for the shelf to fall on David’s head. He’d measured carefully, used the stud finder, andthoughthe’d found just the right place to hang it. However, he’d apparently somehow missed the studs completely, resulting in the shelf wasting absolutely no time in pulling the screws out of the wall and clattering to the floor, the corner hitting David in the head on the way down.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Slices of Life in Schitt's Creek [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852009
Comments: 16
Kudos: 186





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I do love these little ficlets so much! They're fun to write. Hope you enjoy! Thank you to my dear friend PrettyTheWorld for beta reading for me, as always. <3

“David, I really am sorry.”

“Please stop talking,” David whispered from the passenger seat, where he was leaning against the window, holding a bag of ice and a bloodstained towel against his forehead.

“I didn’t mean to--”

David let out a pained groan, squeezing his eyes shut even more tightly. “Head hurts,” he mumbled, swallowing hard.

Patrick had to bite his lip to keep from apologizing again, because he really hadn’t intended for the shelf to fall on David’s head. He’d measured carefully, used the stud finder, and _thought_ he’d found just the right place to hang it. However, he’d apparently somehow missed the studs completely, resulting in the shelf wasting absolutely no time in pulling the screws out of the wall and clattering to the floor, the corner hitting David in the head on the way down.

At first, Patrick’s primary concern had been the alarming amount of blood coming from his husband’s head, but the closer they got to Elmdale, the more he suspected David might also have a concussion. He’d already had to pull over twice because David thought he was going to be sick, but nothing had happened either time. Now, David was complaining of a headache, and he'd muttered something about the sun being too bright, which further cemented Patrick’s theory. Meanwhile, he was just trying to focus on driving as fast as he could -- without compromising safety, of course -- to get David to the hospital.

He knew that head wounds bled a _lot_ , but that didn’t make it any less concerning that the red stain on the towel in David’s hand seemed to get larger every time he glanced over.

David whimpered and shifted the towel and the bag of ice, giving Patrick an even better view of just how much blood was present.

“We’re almost there,” he said, keeping his voice low, hoping it was soothing.

“No talking,” David breathed, prompting Patrick to bite his lip again to keep from saying anything else. He felt terrible, but there was no apologizing without aggravating David’s headache, and an apology wouldn’t fix this -- only getting David to the hospital would.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he pulled up to the emergency entrance at Elmdale General and threw the car into park, not caring for the moment whether he was in a no parking zone or not.

In one swift motion, Patrick unfastened his seatbelt and got out, hurrying around to David’s side. David moved much more slowly, keeping his eyes closed as he was guided out of the car and through the sliding glass doors. Patrick led David to a chair before signing him in, then promising him he'd be right back after he’d moved the car.

When Patrick walked back into the waiting room, he found David curled up in the chair, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes still squeezed shut. Without saying a word, Patrick reached for David’s hand, weaving their fingers together.

“I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round that won’t stop,” David whispered, curling in on himself a little more tightly.

Patrick wanted so badly to apologize again -- to let David know how awful he felt -- but he stayed quiet, brushing his thumb over the back of David’s hand instead.

When David’s name was called, Patrick felt like they were both swept up into a whirlwind, with a half-dozen doctors and nurses examining David and asking them questions, trying to evaluate the severity of David’s injuries. Eventually he was diagnosed with a mild concussion, given medication to help with the headache and nausea, and a plastic surgeon was called to stitch up the wound on his forehead.

“Am I gonna have a scar?” David had whispered, lying back on the gurney as the doctor worked.

“Hopefully not,” the doctor said, brow furrowed in concentration.

David sighed and closed his eyes again.

“Hey,” Patrick said softly, squeezing David’s hand. “Scars are sexy.”

“Mmm… maybe when you’re some rough and rugged manly man.” One side of David’s lips twitched up into a smirk -- a familiar expression that Patrick was comforted to see. “On me, though? Definitely incorrect.”

“Well, I think they’re very sexy. But if you don’t agree, I guess we can always buy you some hats to conceal your terrible disfigurement.” Patrick tried to keep a straight face, but he could feel a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I do think you’d look irresistible in a fedora. Or maybe a bowler -- I bet you’d have some serious Charlie Chaplin vibes.”

“Again, incorrect.”

“You’ll be fine, David,” Patrick said, more seriously. “And hey, if it does scar, you can blame it on your idiot husband who can’t manage to hang a shelf without causing serious injury.”

“Don’t talk about my husband that way.” David’s voice was soft and sincere, and when Patrick met his eyes, he saw the same softness -- the same sincerity -- there.

“Maybe I’ll just stick with the spreadsheets from now on… leave the construction projects to Ronnie.”

“Mmm… I think that’s a good idea.” David’s gaze drifted upward again as the doctor finished the last stitch.

“There we go,” the doctor said. “Good as new. Well, in a week or two, at least. I’ll have a nurse bring you a sheet with aftercare instructions, but I think as long as you follow those, it won’t be long before all of this is just a memory.”

Patrick nodded and thanked the doctor as the last two words echoed in his head -- _a memory_. Not the kind of memory he’d been looking forward to making with David when they’d taken their vows a few months before, but a memory, nonetheless. A single piece in the patchwork of their lives together, as husbands.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” Patrick asked, as he drove down the highway towards home.

David hummed again, the smirk returning to his lips. “I think we might have to wait a week or two for that. You know… see if it scars.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! <3


End file.
